Blurred Lines
by NinjaMatty
Summary: Nile Dawk/Levi - Goddamit, Levi, get up. You're beautiful. I love you, I've always loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from the streets. Please, marry me right this instant.


Nile/Levi kind of destroys my OTP, but I couldn't stop myself from writing this!  
Please keep in mind while reading that English is not my first language and that nobody proof-read this work.  
Also, it has been years since I wrote porn! I fear Levi might be a bit out of character...

* * *

He's not drunk, really. He's just had a little amount of alcohol to celebrate his birthday. It's not like he drank some tankards of ale alongside wine and perhaps a shot or two of rum. Or was it three? He couldn't seem to remember. Everything had starting to blur after the wine. But he was sure he had drunk some rum because the taste lingered in his mouth.

The Military Police knows how to celebrate, especially how to celebrate their Commander's fortieth birthday. Nile had lost count of how many slaps on the back he had received in congratulations. He still isn't sure why they congratulated him on reaching forty, really. It hadn't been that hard. He hadn't done anything special to make it that far. It's not as if he was in the Scouting Legion where people didn't last for long.

At the thought of the Scouting Legion, Nile grunts in annoyance. Erwin and Mike were there, of course, with their stupid green cloaks and their stupid big grins looking like they belonged amongst the Military Police. Nile had been surprised to see them there. It wasn't often they bothered to leave their outpost near Wall Maria after all. He wasn't sure how he felt about it. They were his friends, yes, but it felt like they had drifted apart during the years. They were all too busy to see each other like they used to.

Nile mutters darkly under his breath about suicidal idiots as he tries to make his way back to his quarters. He has known the Military Police's headquarters like the back of his hand for years, yet now he seems unable to find the stupid door leading to his room. It's late, because there is nobody about. Everybody is probably tucked away safely in their bed or still celebrating in a tavern downtown. Erwin and Mike were still there when he left, and he didn't bother to bid them good night. He feels like an ungrateful asshole.

The wall feels rough and cold beneath his left hand, and his right hand is busy trying not to lose its grip on a half-empty bottle of wine. It's good wine, good quality and probably quite expensive. It's the kind of wine you share with your friends or your family over a good dinner. It is _not_ the kind of wine you drink on your own off the bottle. But Nile doesn't care much about such details. He isn't drinking the dark red liquid for its taste, but rather for its numbing effect. He only wishes he had at least waited until he was in his room to start drinking, because now he's lost in his own headquarters and he feels like a complete idiot. What if someone should see him wandering the halls like some kind of restless ghost? It shouldn't happen, really. Everybody should be in bed.

He stops moving as soon as he spots someone standing a few a feet in front of him. Nile narrows his eyes, vision blurring slightly around the edge. He has no idea what to do. If the other person hasn't noticed him yet, he could beat a hasty retreat and therefore save some of his dignity. On the other hand, Nile knows that, if he tries to leave quietly, he's most likely to trip over his own feet in his haste. Being drunk is one thing; but being drunk and lying on the floor after a fall is quite another.

So he stands there quite stupidly, his brain unable to think straight. The bottle of wine feels heavy between his clammy fingers.

The other person finally moves and seems to notice Nile resting against the wall. Nile notices that the person has to be a soldier, because he or she wears the military uniform. It is ridiculously dark in the corridor, which makes it hard to distinguish the person's features. There is an oil lamp on the wall two or three feet behind him, but its moving light throws dark shadows. Nile wonders why the hell the corridors have to be so dark.

It is only when the person is standing right in front of him that Nile finally recognizes him. The reddish light falls on short black hair and a pale narrow face.

Levi.

Levi is standing in front of him, clad in his perfectly-ironed uniform without a hair out of place. His grey eyes seem to gleam in the half light, but his expression is almost impossible to read. He doesn't say anything, just stand there easily with his feet parted slightly and his arms loose by his sides.

Nile can only stare at the other man as if he were some kind of unholy apparition. He remembers vaguely thinking that Erwin hadn't been with his faithful shadow back in the tavern, but he hadn't wondered about it. Why was Levi in the Military Police's headquarters? How had he even managed to walk inside without being stopped? Nile tries to say something, but the alcohol clogs his brain and his tongue feels like lead inside his mouth.

Levi takes a step forward. It brings him close to the other man, and Nile's breath hitches in his throat. There is barely any space left between the two of them, now. Levi is standing so close that Nile can smell the faint but sharp aroma of cleaning products and soap coming off him. He wants to take a step back, because it is suddenly hard to breathe. He can see Levi's face perfectly; the sharpness of his nose, the graceful arch of his eyebrows, the slightly arrogant tilt of his thin lips, the long thick black eyelashes that cast a shadow on high cheekbones. But especially his eyes; eyes of a grey that reminds Nile of the slums of Wall Sina, dark, cold, unrelenting but morbidly beautiful in some way. Levi isn't beautiful in a way a woman is beautiful. He is beautiful because of his allure, of his self-assurance, of his cockiness and the way he holds himself as if the whole world belongs to him. Nile knows not to be fooled by Levi's short stature, yet he finds it ridiculously attractive that Humanity's strongest soldier should have to raise his head to meet Nile's eyes. Levi is doing just that right now; head raised and cocked slightly to the side as if in invitation. His black hair falls softly across his forehead, the tip of his fringe barely brushing his cheeks. He isn't wearing his ridiculous cravat, Nile notices, and his neck seems long and graceful, almost slender and vulnerable looking.

Dumbly, Nile tears his gaze away from Levi to look down at the bottle of wine in his hand. Has he drunk more than he thought? Is he having some kind of alcohol-induced hallucination? Because the Levi he knows would never stand this close to anybody else but Erwin.

Against his will, his eyes return to the man standing in front of him. Levi hasn't moved. There is an intensity in his eyes that Nile has never seen before. His hands feel clammy and cold and his heart threatens to jump out of his chest. He knows his face must be turning red. There is sweat beading on his forehead. He can hardly breathe. Why is the hallway suddenly so hot?

Warm slender fingers brush past his, and they catch the wine bottle that he had just let go of in his surprise. Levi raises the glass bottle slowly to his lips, his eyes never leaving Nile's. Nile couldn't have looked away even if he had wanted to. He stares, mouth dry, as Levi takes a few swallows of the dark liquid. There are a few red drops glistening on his lips, looking ridiculously obscene and a bit like droplets of blood. His tongue pokes out for a second, wiping away the redness on his lips.

The cool hard contact of the wall beneath his left hand is the only thing anchoring Nile down. He is pretty sure that he is gaping at Levi by now, staring unabashedly at his lips. His brain tries to think, tries to make sense of what is happening, but the alcohol stubbornly smothers everything. The hand that used to hold the bottle of wine a few seconds ago suddenly feels empty. As if of its own will, it raises up slowly, a bit clumsily. The back of Nile's fingers brush ever so slightly against Levi's cheek. Despite the alcohol, Nile knows that Levi could cut that hand off in the blink of an eye. But Levi doesn't make any threatening movement. He inclines his head slightly, leaning into the touch. His skin is surprisingly smooth and warm. Nile remembers somewhere in the back of his mind a time when Levi's skin had been blackened by dirt; a time when he had been scrawny and short and left to himself on the streets; a time before the Scouting Legion when men with money had been allowed to put their disgusting hands on him.

As if Levi is sensing those dark thoughts, he puts his free hand over Nile's. His fingers are deceptively slender, but callused and hiding a strength that can break Titans. They grip Nile's hand to guide it down his neck. Nile can only stare at his hand as if it weren't his own. He feels warm skin beneath his own callused fingers. Levi's pulse beats steadily against his thumb. The back of his hand brushes against the starch white collar of Levi's shirt, and the cool fabric contrasts oddly with the warm skin. Nile's thumb travels from Levi's pulse to his throat, caressing there softly. Levi doesn't even swallow. He stands almost still.

Nile has stopped wondering what the hell is happening. He knows it must be some kind of dream, because Levi would never let himself be touched that way otherwise. It's a good dream, the kind of dreams that leave Nile waking up sweating and panting and having to change the bed linens. Maybe it's the alcohol making it look so real. Never in his dreams had he been able to feel Levi's heat, or smell the fragrance of his skin or notice the disturbingly beautiful colour of his eyes.

It really must be a dream, because in the waking world, Nile would never have dared leaning down to kiss Levi. Levi's face tilts up, his eyes a shade darker than before. His thin lips are warm and moist, tasting of the delicious red wine. His mouth is pliant and opens ever so slightly. Nile is only half surprised, and he takes advantage of it readily. His hand still on Levi's neck, he angles Levi's head up a bit more for better access to his mouth. Nile is a clumsy kisser, but his partner doesn't seem to mind. Levi knows what he is doing and he knows what to do. His tongue meets Nile's, caressing almost gently. Nile is glad he has kept his eyes open, otherwise he wouldn't have been able to believe whose mouth he is kissing. Levi's eyes too are open, intent and dark. He raises himself on tiptoes, leaning against Nile's chest. One of his hands is still busy holding the bottle of wine while the other grips the leather strap of the 3DMG across Nile's chest.

Nile has absolutely no idea what to do with his free hand. It hovers ridiculously a few inches from Levi's body, not knowing where to rest. It finally settles on Levi's waist, below his military-issued jacket. Nile feels Levi's warmth through his thin shirt and the flex of hard muscles. Levi's waist is narrow, much like everything else about his body, but the muscles underneath that warm skin are hard. Nile wonders, as he tastes Levi's tongue, if he'd even be able to defend himself should the other man tries to kill him. He is taller and bigger than Levi, but most men are, and Levi has sent to the morgue men bigger, stronger and far meaner than Nile. Then Nile realises that he doesn't give a shit. Levi could stick a knife in his gut right now and he'd die a happy man. (It's a dream anyway and you wake up before getting killed in dreams.)

Levi slowly pulls back, lips red and wet. He makes a show of licking them slowly. They are bruised from the kiss. For the first time, he lowers his eyes to look at the bottle of wine still held loosely in his grasp. The liquid slushes in its glass container as he raises it to his mouth to take another swallow. Nile wonders absentmindedly why Levi is drinking the wine since he has never been fond of alcoholic beverages. But it's a dream and dreams aren't logical.

The now-empty bottle slips from Levi's fingers to crash on the stone floor. It explodes into tiny shiny shards all over their feet, covering their boots with glass and droplets of wine. An expression of annoyance crosses Levi's face but is quickly smoothed away. He turns his attention back to Nile, who seems rooted on the spot. Levi appears to appraise him for a second, looking him over.

Nile feels his face flush further. He is suddenly aware of how scruffy he looks compared to Levi. He hasn't shaved for a few days so there's dark stubble all over his cheeks and chin. His black hair is probably in disarray as always. He hasn't ironed his uniform this morning and the tail of his shirt hasn't been tucked properly inside the waistband of his trousers. His boots need a good polish. There's a wine stain on his leather jacket and his breath probably smells of hard liquor. He never cuts a fine figure (not like stupid Erwin Smith), but tonight it seems even worse. Or maybe it only feels worse because Levi's grey eyes are looking him over, pinning him into place. And Nile is suddenly aware that his trousers feel way too tight and that Levi must have noticed.

If this is a dream, why does he have to feel so damn embarrassed?!

Levi is, as always, collected and calm. He pushes Nile none too gently until his back is resting against the wall. Then, much to the other man's astonishment, he kneels on the floor. His long boots protect his knees from any stray shards from the bottle of wine. Levi's fingers go to Nile's belt buckle, deftly undoing it alongside the button and zipper of the trousers. Nile's mind can barely register what is happening. His breathing is ragged and uneven, and he is glad for the wall behind his back that helps him stand upright. He can hardly believe what his eyes are seeing; Levi, kneeling in front of him, head bent to the task and black hair gleaming in the bad light coming from the lone oil lamp. He wants to say something, anything. So far, he hasn't been able to utter a single word. His tongue feels like lead inside his mouth and his throat feels constricted as if someone were choking him. What could he say in a moment like this, anyway?

_Goddamit, Levi, get up. You're beautiful. I love you, I've always loved you. I'm sorry I couldn't save you from the streets. Please, marry me right this instant._

The sound that leaves his mouth isn't a marriage proposal however, rather a chocked wordless gasp. A moist warmth engulfs his cock and his mind seems to black out for a few instants. Nile looks down, eyes wide, as his fingers scramble for some kind of purchase. The fingers of his right hand find their way into Levi's black locks, not exactly pulling but not exactly resting either.

Levi looks up through his thick eyelashes, eyes almost black but still cool. He doesn't seem ashamed in the least by what he is doing. He stares at Nile as he pulls back, sweeping the flat of his tongue underneath his cock. Levi's right hand is holding the base of his dick firmly while his left hand is gripping Nile's belt to prevent him from bucking his hips. Nile knows he could come from the look on Levi's face alone; lips red, cheeks colouring, eyes bright and hair disheveled, he looks like the picture of debauchery itself. Levi leans in again, nuzzling his cheek gently against the cock firmly held in his hand. Pearly precum now dots his cheek and one corner of his mouth.

Already, Nile is shaking with the need to release. He has never been this hard in all his life. He is clenching his teeth so hard that his jaws are starting to ache. But Levi's hold only tightens further, preventing him from any form of release. It is frustrating, but Nile does nothing to push Levi's hand away. He only watches as the other man continues to torture him with slow strokes of his tongue. Nile knows nothing when it comes to sex, yet he can easily say that Levi knows what he is doing. Levi knows how to hold, how to lick, how to look to make a man beg. Nile wouldn't mind begging by now. He would beg, actually, if he could manage to form any coherent word. But all he can manage are ridiculous grunts and groans that mean nothing. His fingers are closed into a tight fist into Levi's hair. His hair is soft, Nile notices despite the pleasure taking over his mind. It takes a conscious effort to relax his grip. His fingers are clammy and sweaty and black strands stick to them.

Then Levi hums, and Nile nearly crumples to the floor. He's panting, sweating, swearing underneath his breath. The wall can barely hold him steady now. Levi pulls back again, and a clear sticky fluid links his lips to the tip of Nile's cock.

''Not yet,'' he says softly. His voice in the otherwise silent corridor feels like velvet; velvet that burns and chafes so exquisitely. It has the effect of a balm and a whip, of cool water and of burning water, of delicious wine and watered down ale.

Nile makes a sound at the back of throat that sounds suspiciously like a sob. He's past caring what he may or may not sound like however. All he can focus on is this feeling; a crossroad between pleasure and pain.

Levi gets up without letting go of his grip on Nile's cock. He looks a tiny bit less composed and his breath is short. Yet he doesn't lose that air of command that makes him so alluring. He grabs the front of Nile's jacket and pulls him down until he is sitting on the cold ground. Levi sinks back down with him, straddling his thighs. Nile stares at him through blurry eyes, head swimming, heart thumping, blood racing inside his veins. He reaches out and, despite everything coursing through his body, he gently rests the palms of his hands on Levi's warm cheeks. His thumbs stroke lovingly fine high cheekbones. He leans in, kissing the bruised lips. Levi opens his mouth obligingly again while his hands work at something out Nile's line of sight. He hears the clanking of metal and the rustle of clothes. Without breaking the kiss, Levi takes one of Nile's hands into his own and guides it down the length of his body. His fingers encounter only fabric at first, then warm skin. He feels scars, hard bones and tight muscles. Levi's hand doesn't stop guiding his until Nile can no longer take exploring by touch without seeing. He breaks the kiss, looking down briefly to note that Levi has somehow managed to lower his own pants. His right hand is still gripping Nile's cock, and this time Nile is almost thankful. If he comes right now, he won't be able to enjoy the body in front of him. He uses both his hands this time to map out whatever it is he can reach. Levi doesn't stop him, simply stares at him with impassive grey eyes and a firm grip where it counts. His body could be considered slender only because of its shortness. There is firm muscle and the bones appear thick and sturdy. There are also scars, some old and some new. But the hips are beautifully narrow. Nile slides his hands over the sharp hipbones, down strong thighs and up again. Despite everything, he feels ridiculously shy when he reaches behind Levi to let his fingers caress the skin of his butt. Levi doesn't stop him nor does he encourage him. He takes Nile's hand again after a while, probably tired of those shy wanderings, and slides it away before letting it go.

Levi raises the fingers of his left hand to his face and takes three of them into his mouth. Nile watches in fascination as he sucks on them almost wantonly, and his cock twitches with interest again. Levi tightens his grip but keeps on licking each of his fingers, his eyes never leaving Nile's. Saliva dribbles down his knuckles and chin. His eyes look almost entirely black now, and his breath hitches ever so slightly as he removes his fingers from his mouth to reach behind him.

Nile knows immediately what Levi is doing as his expression changes minutely. His eyelids flutter, his mouth open and his head loll back, exposing his long slender neck. Nile grunts, his dick hurting like hell in a grip lire iron. He wants to see what Levi is doing. He wishes he could move the other man, but the grip on his cock tightens painfully when he makes to move, and he understands that he is to remain seated that way. It's frustrating. He wraps an arm around Levi's waist, pulling him against his chest. He buries his face in Levi's neck, inhaling the smell of sweat and soap and cleaning products. He bites down on the soft skin just below the jaw, frustrated and caught between pain and ecstasy. He uses his other hand to follow Levi's arm that's arching behind his back, down to his wrist and to fingers that disappear inside his body. Levi makes a weird sound at the back of this throat and his hips buck slightly. His breath is ragged and each bite on his neck makes him gasp.

Finally, in a blur of movement, Levi removes his fingers before letting go of Nile's cock. He sinks down on it, taking it all in in own smooth tilt of his hips. Both of them gasp. Nile is dimly aware of gripping Levi's hips, lost in a whirlwind of unnamed pleasure. He knows he won't last for long, though it's a pity. Levi feels so good, so warm and tight around his dick. Levi grips Nile's broad shoulders, raises himself before sinking back down. It only takes twice more before Nile is spilling himself inside of him. Levi kind of freezes, as if surprised, a frown of disapproval on his face. He stops moving and simply holds Nile as he shakes trough his release. The corridor is filled with gasps.

After what seems like a very long time, Nile is aware of his surroundings again. The floor is cold against his butt, his head hums with alcohol and sex and his heartbeat is finally returning to a more normal beat. He looks up wearily to see Levi standing up, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket as if nothing happened. If it weren't for the dark blooming bruises on his neck, Nile could have almost believed that nothing happened.

Damn, this was a realistic dream. He feels sticky and bone-tired. Maybe he could close his eyes here and he'd wake up in the morning with a hangover and sticky bed sheets, but with the remnants of a good dream.

Levi scoffs at him. He helps Nile up by grabbing him by the front of his jacket again. None too gently, he more or less fixes Nile's clothes for him.

''Thanks, darling,'' Nile drawls with a ridiculous smile.

Levi looks a bit uncomfortable at the pet name. He takes hold of Nile's sleeve and pulls him down the corridor. It is a dream, because the real Levi wouldn't have left the broken shards of the wine bottle on the floor. This is a relief, really, Nile realises as he stumbles after Levi, because if isn't, it means that he has just fucked his best friend's wife. Erwin would never forgive him.

Nile is so tired and so drunk that he barely notices when they reach his quarters. Levi unceremoniously goes through his pockets to find the right key for this door. Nile wants to laugh, although he isn't sure why. Levi glares at him, and Nile is once again overwhelmed with the need to speak those three words that had been sitting on his tongue for years. Even in dreams, he had never dared say them out lout. Maybe now was the right time.

The key rattles in the lock as the door swings open. Levi pushes Nile inside, and keeps pushing the other man until they reach his bed.

''Levi, I –''

With one final push, Nile topples onto his bed, biting his tongue and feeling suddenly dizzy. He is dimly aware of the door clicking shut as fog engulfs him.

''You seem to be feeling a bit under the weather this morning,'' Erwin says not unkindly when Nile finally deigns meeting with Mike and him in the courtyard. ''You should have stayed in bed if you are sick.''

Mike barely glances at Nile as he saddles his horse, ready to go back to the Scouting Legion's headquarters. Like many others, he had drunk too much the night before and he'd prefer to be home with Nanaba rather than inside Wall Sina surrounded by tight-laced nobles. His head throbs and he can't wait to be on his way. He feels some kind of satisfaction however when he sees that Nile also seems to have quite the hangover.

''I'll live,'' Nile answers with a snort. ''I've seen worse.''

''I hope so,'' Erwin says with that smile that has women throw their panties at him. He turns to Mike, an eyebrow raised. ''Where is Levi? I told him we were leaving at eight.''

Nile doesn't hear Mike's answer. Visions of his dream last night come back in a flash, and his face turns bright red.

When he woke up this morning, he had still been fully dressed in his smelly uniform. Instead of getting up to shower and change as he would have usually done, he had laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling and remembering the vivid dream he had had the night before. If he closed his eyes, it had felt as if he could still feel Levi's warm skin beneath his fingers.

But now, Erwin was saying that Levi had indeed come with Mike and him instead of staying behind. Nile couldn't remember seeing the black-haired man at all. Maybe he had had other business to attend to? That sounded unlikely, but Nile couldn't come up with any other explanation.

As if on cue, Levi finally makes his appearance. Nile tries his best not to stare at him, his dream still haunting him. Of course, Levi looks absolutely normal with his perfectly combed hair, perfectly ironed uniform and perfectly polished boots. He bears the same bored expression as always. He says something to Erwin that Nile doesn't catch because he's too busy pretending not to notice Levi. Erwin laughs, bids farewell to Nile before vaulting up in the saddle of his horse. Stupid Erwin, with his stupid perfect hair and stupid perfect smile and stupid perfect white horse. Mike nods at him from atop his horse.

Nile only grunts. His head is killing him. There's a sour taste in his mouth. He feels like he's been trampled by a Titan. He just wants to go back to bed.

He looks up, expecting the courtyard to be empty, and is surprised to see that Levi hasn't left yet. He seems to be fixing a strap on the saddle of his horse, his head bent in concentration. Nile's heart thumps ridiculously loud in his chest. Erwin is nowhere to be seen, probably already out on the street, so now is the perfect moment. Offering his help to Levi will probably only result in a rebuff, but it's better than nothing. Nile takes a step towards the shorter man, but stops dead in his tracks.

Levi's collar has fallen open ever so slightly, and Nile can see many dark bruises there. One under the jaw looks especially nasty. Memories of his dream assault him once again, and it takes all his willpower not to grab Levi by the front of his immaculate jacket and shake him until he says where he got those bruises. Erwin, most likely. They probably fucked like rabbits all night long.

''Nile,'' Levi says. His voice sounds loud in the empty courtyard.

Nile snaps to attention as if his name had been spoken by a higher-up. Levi is looking at him, the morning sun caressing his pale skin. His eyes are the same grey as freshly forged steel, far away from black.

''The stirrup is broken,'' Levi continues. ''Help me up.''

It isn't a request. Nile looks stupidly at the stirrup and notices that the leather is so worn out that it wouldn't bear Levi's weight if he were to hoist himself up on his horse. It doesn't matter that a saddle has two stirrups and that the other one is probably fine. It doesn't matter, because whatever Levi asks, Nile is more than happy to give.

As if in dream, Nile walks to Levi and helps him up in the saddle. Levi settles with the ease of an experienced rider before looking down at the commander of the Military Police.

''Happy birthday,'' he says, almost gently, before kicking at his horse's flanks.


End file.
